


Slightly Sideways

by MaatKaReHatshepsut



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, Vaguely Christmas-y
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 03:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21246797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaatKaReHatshepsut/pseuds/MaatKaReHatshepsut
Summary: When Mac gets into trouble, Jack has a habit of throwing himself in the way.Jack discovers that an epiphany doesn't have to come on the worst day of your life, or even the twentieth most dramatic.





	Slightly Sideways

They were in Budapest. Jack doesn't remember why. The mission wasn't important, in the scheme of things.

Cage was still a newbie, he remembers that much. She didn't have the measure of him yet.

If he pulled that stunt today, she wouldn't be surprised.

But that day, whenever it was, when he’d turned and bolted towards the main warehouse, leaving her to supervise the ten guys they’d tied up in the guardhouse, she’d been stunned.

After all, what good was he, in that situation?

“There’s a bomb”, Mac had said.

“I’m on my way”, Jack had replied.

Jack doesn't remember much of the rest of that conversation.  
He had run like the wind across the concrete lot, tucking his gun into his holster as he went.

No reason to have it in his hand- Matty’s infrared scans were saying loud and clear that all the bad guys were accounted for.

Jack had charged through the open door, thrown himself up the stairs, and bolted across the mezzanine, all while parrying Mac’s slightly panicked entreaties to stay away.

Jack had rounded a corner, into the room Mac was in, just in time to see the counter on the bomb hit single digits.

There was no time to think; before he knew what was happening, instinct and training had kicked in. Jack had scooped Mac into his arms, run behind a row of metal filing cabinets which were bolted to the floor, put Mac down against the wall and crouched down, braced against the corner, placing his body and the filing cabinets between Mac and the bomb.  
He remembers praying it would be enough.

The bomb went off.

Jack remembers waking up to a ringing in his ears, and a pounding in his head.

Heavy-duty concussion.

The next thing he remembers is that the ringing began to clear, as he fought his way through cotton wool, to consciousness.

Round about then, he heard Mac panicking.

“Jack, Jack, wake up, please”, Mac was saying, over and over, louder and more afraid by the second.

Then he realised he was slumped over someone warm, head resting on a slim shoulder, blonde hair tickling his cheek.

Skinny hands fisted in the back of his shirt, weakly shaking him.

Mac’s pleas began to sound wet.  
That was enough to jolt Jack out of his stupor.

He tried to say, “Mac, I’m fine.”

It came out, “M’mm’f”.

That was enough, though.

“Thank God”, Mac had sobbed, before wrapping his arms around Jack, and crying into his shoulder.

Phoenix's medics had turned up a little while later, and peeled Jack, still concussion-dumb, out of Mac’s shaky arms.

Unable to think well enough to say anything, Jack had gently stroked Mac’s dusty, tear-streaked cheek as he was lifted onto a stretcher.

As they wheeled Jack away, Riley had come around the corner, and taken a step towards him. Jack had shaken his head, and then motioned towards Mac.

Riley had understood, bless her.

As Riley had helped Mac up, and started to fuss over him, Jack had passed out.

So far, so run-of-the-mill for them, really.

On the rare occasions Mac can't fix the problem in time, Jack takes the hit for him.  
That's just how it is.

What made that op different from a hundred others that had gone slightly sideways, was the aftermath.

Because this time, when Jack woke up in hospital, instead of the usual 50:50 mix of hugs and upbraiding, Mac had turned to him, and said:

“How did you know I would need you?”

And Jack had realised that he didn't have an answer to that question.

So he’d thought a moment, and then answered far more honestly than he should have.  
Blame the morphine.

“I didn't. I just knew I needed to be there.”

Then, the morphine had pulled Jack under, but not before he’d had an earth-shaking revelation. 

It must have shown in his face- all of it, the epiphany and the losing-consciousness both- because Mac had leaned forward, tightened his grip on Jack’s hand, and said:

“Why?”, urgently, as though he knew the window of opportunity to get the answer was closing.

Jack had opened his mouth, and then slipped under, only having enough time to think his answer.

“Because I love you.”

\--

Months have passed, and Mac still acts a little oddly around Jack.

He acts as though he always has a question on the tip of his tongue.

Mac's eyes search Jack's all the time. 

Jack doesn't know what he’s looking for. Maybe the answer to his question.

Maybe permission to ask it.

Things come to a head at the Phoenix Christmas party, in the tech rooms.

Mac is making his way over to Jack, but Jack, out of beer, is heading for the fridge.  
They meet in the middle, between a computer desk and the wall.  
They smile at each other, and make to squeeze past.

As Jack has his hands on Mac's shoulders to direct him around, Riley whoops.

Mac is the first to get it.  
He looks up, and goes bright red.

Jack looks up, and something inside him is relieved.

He finally has an excuse to drop the charade.

When he tilts his head to meet Mac's, Mac is babbling nervously, red as a Tennessee tomato.

Jack silences him with a kiss.

High above them, the mistletoe sways in the breeze from the overhead vents.  
In the background, Riley and Bozer catcall obnoxiously, over the others' applause.

Jack doesn't care; Mac is kissing him back.


End file.
